


Redemption Row

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Introspection, Philosophy, Quotations, References to Depression, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Sam can't get the memory of the last trial out of his head. He can't stop seeing Crowley's expression, and he doesn't understand why it bothers him so much. Lucky for him, Castiel has some insight to share. Spoilers for end of season 8, beginning of season 9.
Kudos: 10





	Redemption Row

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Supernatural.

**Redemption Row**

Sam shot upright with a gasp, chest heaving as he came awake. After a moment, his breathing calmed. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then flopped back against the pillows.

He'd dreamed of the last trial again. Not the searing pain of the trial or the scorching fires of energy. It was always the same dream.

Crowley. He always dreamed of Crowley. Not as he'd been for the first shot, or the second, or even the fifth. But as he'd been for the last two.

It had been strange enough just after the seventh. The wild, near-hysterical rant about how they'd shared a foxhole, and how people deserved love. About how he, Crowley, king of Hell, just wanted to be loved. But the truly awful part had been the when he'd gone to administer the final shot.

Awful, in how strangely heart-wrenching it had been. His mind replayed the memory, seared into his brain.

Crowley had quieted after his outburst. He hadn't paid much attention, too weak and worn out from what the trials were doing to him. Hadn't noticed Crowley's condition until he'd gotten up to administer the last shot.

He remembered green eyes, worn and weary and despairing, lifting to meet his. A voice, so unlike the Hell King's that it was practically unrecognizable.  _ 'Can I...ask a favor, moose? I'd like, to ask you a question...Sam.' _

The first time Crowley had ever used his name, that he could recall. Certainly in that tone. And the look on Crowley's face, the sheer anguish...he'd never imagined such a look. If there was ever an image of a broken, beaten soul, the quiet torment in Crowley's face was it. 

The words echoed in his ears, the sentences he relived in his dreams.

_ 'When you were confessing, what did you say?' _

_'With my history, it begs the question...where do I even start? To look for...forgiveness?'_

He remembered the slow fall of tears from Crowley's eyes. Tears, in the eyes of a demon. And he'd known as he watched that Crowley wasn't even aware of them. They were true tears of regret, repentance, remorse. Tears he'd not have imagined any demon capable of, let alone Crowley.

The words, the expression, the tears, it had been painful to see. He'd never imagined that watching redemption could be so painful. Agonizing in the raw emotion that was displayed. His desperation. Crowley's grief. Their combined guilt and torment, shared in that one moment as he purified Crowley and was purified himself by the fire of the trials.

He remembered his own words to the demon.  _ 'How about we start with this?' _

He wasn't sure whether he'd meant the syringe of his sanctified blood, or if he'd meant the trial itself, the cleansing of Crowley's demonic soul.

He remembered Crowley's response, a memory so sharp it burned.

That pale face, streaked with blood and sweat and tears, turning away from him. Green eyes closing. The way Crowley had tilted his head, bared his throat. Utterly vulnerable and silently begging for him to plunge the needle in. The needle that would both cleanse and possibly destroy him. The needle he'd fought only hours ago.

That sight had shaken him more than he cared to admit. More than he could easily explain. Before the trials, he'd have been delighted to see Crowley humbled. Afterward, he'd been more than willing to see him caged. Especially when Crowley had started acting like a wheeling and dealing, cranky douche again.

But that memory, the memory of that quiet, tortured figure, of that bared throat and silent plea...that touched something in him, something he wasn't sure how to handle. That submission, that utter brokenness...coming from a being so powerful, so proud…it bothered him.

He wondered if his face had looked like that, when Dean had stopped him, when he'd told his brother how much he hated letting him down, feeling like he was a disappointment.

He wondered if Crowley felt like he had, when he'd released Lucifer from the cage and realized just how absolutely he had screwed up.

He wondered how Crowley felt now. The demon had saved him from Gadreel, and taken a beating doing it. They did well enough in their mutually distrustful encounters. But he knew Crowley had been furious with him, and couldn't help but wonder if it had been the trial rather than his imprisonment that had angered him.

He wondered which Crowley could hate him more for. For starting the process that had left him so broken, reduced him to such agonizing and tortured reflection. Or for not finishing it properly, leaving him a demon's soul and an all too human anguish to go with it. Not to mention his addiction to human blood.

Sam sighed, then rose from his bed and went to the bathroom to splash water on his face. Dawn was a couple hours away and he should get more rest, but he already knew he wouldn't sleep more tonight. He sighed again, ran a hand through his hair to sort of settle it, and headed to the kitchen for coffee.

Castiel was in the main room, near the kitchen, reading. In the few days he'd been here, the angel had fallen in love with the Men of Letters library. He glanced up from the heavy book he was reading. “Sam.”

“Hey.” Sam wandered past him, found coffee, started it, then leaned against the counter with a jaw cracking yawn.

“You seem...weary. And, forgive me, but it doesn't seem like it's time for you to be awake yet.” Castiel had followed him and was hovering in the doorway.

“It isn't. But I'm not going to sleep any more tonight, so I might as well be up and moving.” The coffee finished percolating, and he poured himself a cup and sipped, enjoying the bitterness and the heat.

Cas frowned. “If you're having trouble sleeping, that is something I can remedy.”

“Nah. Don't worry about it.” He took another sip. The caffeine was beginning to wake him up a little.

“Sam...I know enough about being human to know that lack of sleep can be detrimental to one's health.” Cas stepped further into the room, concern in his voice and expression.

“Yeah, well, one night's not that bad. Besides...you could probably put me to sleep, but that wouldn't necessarily solve my problem.” He flashed the angel a half-smile.

“I see.” The frown line deepened, thought replacing concern. “If I may ask...what is your problem? It may be something I can alleviate.”

“I doubt it.” He took a bigger gulp of coffee, wondering if he should confess to Cas what was on his mind.

Cas was smart. He might not get movie references and idioms, but he understood a lot of things. And honestly, he wanted to get it off his chest. Cas was as good a person to share his thoughts with as any. Either the angel would have good advice, or he'd give him a Dean style wake up call. Or he'd be confused, which was often at least mildly entertaining, if not also mildly exasperating.

He took another sip of his coffee, then set the cup aside, looking at the far wall. “It's just...I keep remembering the last part of the trials.”

“You made the right choice. Sam...”

“I don't mean that part, about deciding not to finish. I mean, the actual trial itself. The whole 'cure a demon' thing with Crowley.” He clenched his hands together, feeling the knuckles flex under the skin. “You know, I watched Father Thomas's experiment videos. I saw what curing a demon was like. I thought I was prepared for it. And I was, for the first part. The fighting, the threats, the cursing, the mind games...all of that, I was totally ready for. But those last two shots...it was different.”

Cas had moved closer, focusing on him with that almost disturbing intensity that was his trademark. The angel settled on the edge of a table. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Crowley. He was different. He changed. Right before I gave him that last shot.” He shook his head, then looked at Cas, perched patiently on the table. “He was...he was crying, you know? Like, really crying. He asked me where he would even start looking for forgiveness.” his jaw clenched and he looked away from Cas's intense blue eyes. “He'd been fighting the needle, freaking out about it, but that last shot...Cas, he asked me to give him that last shot. I mean, he sat there and bared his throat and everything.” He shoved himself upright, shifting his weight, hands clenching and unclenching on the counter behind him.

“This...bothers you. Crowley's behavior.” Cas's voice was quiet.

“Yeah. It really does. Because I think he was sincere. I think he meant everything he said and did then, no matter how he acted before or after. And he looked so...broken, so torn, so sad...it wasn't like he was really Crowley at all. But he was. And I'm not sure what I think about that.” He sighed and dropped into a chair so he could rest his elbows on his knees. “All I know is, it was real, and I...I almost felt sorry for him. It really kinda hurt seeing him like that. And I'm not sure why.”

“Probably because you understand it, at least in part.” Castiel shifted. “I do not know that I would have had the courage for that.”

He looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Cas huffed, then seemed to settle in on the table. His expression was thoughtful. Sam waited for him to speak. Finally, the angel began, his words coming slowly, as if he were still trying to get his thoughts in order.

“You and I, we have both made mistakes in our lives. We have both committed great evil, in attempting to do good. We have both spent years seeking to do penance, to find redemption for those mistakes which we have made.” the angel's voice was heavy, filled with pain and regret.

Sam swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Cas, if you don't want to talk about this...”

“It's fine. Mostly, I've come to terms with these things.” The angel shook his head, a short side to side jerk that Sam recognized as Cas's way of shaking something off. A quick shake of the shoulders, and Cas relaxed, hands in his lap, fingers laced lightly together. Sam doubted the angel was truly as at peace as he was trying to be, but he wasn't going to push him.

Cas stilled, then spoke again. “Crowley's condition...I suspect it bothers you both because you understand his suffering, and yet cannot comprehend the full magnitude of it.” Castiel winced. “Even I can't.”

Sam blinked, his brow furrowing. “I...what? I understand him, but I can't? Cas, how does that even make sense?”

Cas frowned. “You comprehend what it means to regret your actions, to need atonement. You...understand what a...” The angel looked away, looking at the wall to his left, a painful intensity in his face. “What a painful, and deeply personal thing redemption, and the seeking of it, is. What it's like, to feel as if you have committed a sin so great that nothing and no one can forgive it. It's an understanding I share, and therefore comprehend as well.” Cas's hands locked together, pressure turning the knuckles white. “When I took your memories, when I stayed in Purgatory and fled from you with the angel tablet...these were my acts of atonement. And I honestly don't know which I felt more ashamed of. That you should witness my sins, or that you should see me fighting to redeem myself.”

Sam remembered how he'd felt after raising Lucifer. He knew what Cas meant. How he'd felt after raising Lucifer, after being soulless, during the trials…that feeling of an ugliness that could never be removed, that went to the core.

“It makes you vulnerable.” He spoke the words slowly, testing the rightness of them. “It...you can't seek redemption without being honest with yourself. And with other people, to a point. About everything. It just...it takes away your illusions, your lies, strips you bare.”

“Yes. It's...very unsettling. Even for humans. For angels and demons, perhaps particularly for demons...perhaps even more so.”

Sam frowned. “How's it different? I mean, seeking redemption is the same for everyone, right?”

“Not exactly. Though it took me a while to comprehend the difference. I suspect I only understand it now because I was human for a time.”

“Can you explain?” Sam shifted his weight. He almost didn't want Cas to tell him. Not because of what it might reveal about Crowley, but what it might reveal about Cas himself.

For a long moment, he thought the angel wouldn't respond. Then Cas sighed. “You humans, when you seek redemption, you do so with an end in mind.”

“Yeah. Forgiveness. Don't you?” Sam frowned.

“That's not what I meant. I meant...you're aware of having a finite lifespan. For you, the search for redemption generally comes with the knowledge that you will one day die. And that, when you die, you will know whether you have received forgiveness or not. You will know whether your good deeds have outweighed your mistakes. You have the potential to be given a clean slate, even.” Castiel bowed his head, then looked at Sam. There was eternity in his eyes. “Even you and Dean, unusual cases that you are, seek forgiveness and redemption in the knowledge that someday, you will know whether it has been granted.”

“I'll die. And I'll either go to Heaven, or to Hell.” Hell was probably more likely, given what he'd seen so far. But then, he'd gone to Heaven once too, so maybe he'd get lucky when he finally died for good. If that ever happened.

“Exactly. You have assurance that there is an answer to your question: 'Can I be forgiven?' And that one day, you will know that answer. For angels and demons...it's different.”

Cas paused, and Sam waited for the angel to resume speaking.

Cas's eyes were dark, full of memory when he spoke again. “Angels and demons exist, in essence, as pure energy. As eternal, immortal beings. True, we can be killed. But I am proof that it does not necessarily mean anything. And, barring violence, we don't die. Thus...short of being slain by another of my kind, I live with the knowledge that I will never, truly be sure if I have redeemed myself. Even if I can re-enter Heaven, return to my place among the angels, it wouldn't necessarily mean I had been forgiven or redeemed. Only that I had returned home. For demons, the same issue exists. Unless they are killed, a search for redemption will never be rewarded one way or the other.”

“Probably why they don't try, and most of them hate the thought.” Sam frowned. He'd never thought of it that way.

“I suspect so, yes.”

“That line between mortality and immortality, is one of the differences. The one I understand for Crowley. To endure those emotions, that sorrow and self-loathing, to know that you will most likely never find out if you can be free of them...it's a heavy burden. And I suspect his would be far worse than mine.” Castiel bowed his head. “And mine seems...very heavy indeed, some days.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And Crowley...he's a demon. He didn't just make mistakes. He deliberately did evil. Torture, killing, corruption, making deals...all of the stuff he did, as a demon, as a human...that's some pretty bad shit.”

“Exactly. To feel the weight of all those centuries of sin...I don't like Crowley, but I feel...” Castiel paused, then released the words reluctantly. “Compassion, for him. To come face to face with so much sin, so much pain and suffering and guilt...it must be a heavy burden indeed. It is not a weight I would want to bear.”

“Yeah.” Having put it into words like that, he understood better why Crowley had wept. Why he had bared his throat for the needle. The despair of eternity...even if Sam had destroyed him, if the final treatments had killed him, even that must have seemed like a form of redemption for the King of Hell.

He thought a moment. “I get why...why Crowley was the way he was. I just don't understand why it's bothering me so much.”

“Because it's never an easy thing, to witness a soul so naked.” Cas sighed. “To see someone so vulnerable...so torn apart...it can be agonizing.” Sam remembered that Castiel had been dealing with his guilt and Dean's for years. “To see the King of Hell and the weight he bears...well, if you didn't feel something, I would suspect you of being Lucifer. Or soulless.” Cas's bright blue gaze flicked to him, then away. “Besides, if I understood you correctly...the trials purified you. They were, in their own way, a form of penance, of redemption seeking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they kind of were.”

“Then in that moment, you would have understood everything Crowley was feeling. I think it likely that you would have seen yourself in his position. I imagine that would be unsettling.” Castiel paused. “I know that I would not wish to endure it. Even listening to you tell me, I am reminded of my own response to my mistakes. What it was like, when I regained my memories at the end of my time as Emmanuel.”

Dean had told him about that. About Cas's anguish. And even if his brother hadn't, he had seen Cas take all the torment of his hell memories. That Cas had thought those better than his own emotions said volumes about the angel's grief for that event. And Cas had told him, during his brief period of insanity, that those memories had come close to destroying him.

He thought about what Cas had said, turning the words over in his mind. “You think...I saw Crowley as what I would be if I lived forever?”

“Possible. Though I doubt you would ever carry the weight Crowley does.” Castiel frowned at him. “You are not evil, Sam.”

Sam nodded, thinking it over. It made sense. He thought of how much he'd wanted to just... _ fix it _ ...when he'd seen Cas broken by his own remorse. And maybe that was part of it too. He knew those feelings too well to want to see anyone so broken by them, even if it was the King of Hell, his worst enemy. 

“I guess.” He considered his own mood. He felt calmer, more relaxed. Everything felt less surreal. “Thanks Cas.”

The angel blinked as if he were confused about the gratitude, then nodded. “You're welcome.” Blue eyes flicked over his frame. “You should rest a little longer, if you can.”

Coffee notwithstanding, he did feel like he could use a couple more hours. And since there was no set schedule for the day, there was no harm in indulging. “Yeah. I guess a couple more hours of sleep couldn't hurt.” A yawn punctuated his statement. He set the mostly empty cup in the sink.

“Sam.” Castiel's quiet voice stopped him as he headed for the door.

He turned. “Yeah?”

Cas's eyes were troubled. “I believe Dean...I believe your brother also feels...he may have similar feelings to Crowley's, if his words upon departure were any indication.”

Sam tensed at Dean's name. He was still angry about that whole thing. Letting him get possessed? Twice? And trying to make his decisions for him again? Still, Cas's words resonated with some part of him that still loved Dean. Dean was his brother, and the idea that he might hurt as Crowley had hurt stung a little.

Not enough to erase his anger that Dean had taken his choices from him, or had walked away, trying to justify himself with pathetic excuses. But enough to forgive, a little. Understand a little. He took a deep breath. “What are you trying to say, Cas? Dean's gone.”

“I am aware. However, if you encounter him again, as I believe you eventually will...it would help both of us if I knew what your response would be.” Cas's blue eyes were focused and intense.

He huffed out an aggravated sigh, but knew the angel was right. He and Dean would inevitably cross paths again. And he'd feel better if he knew where he stood on the matter. He thought a moment, and decided to be straight up honest for a while. “Look, the reason I'm mad at Dean...I feel like he betrayed me. Like he took my choices from me. It kinda hurts that he let me possessed, that he helped Gadreel trick me into it. And what really pisses me off is that he doesn't even think that it might have been wrong. With him, it's all about the fact that he didn't want me to let go. And if I can't trust him to trust and respect my choices, to let me be myself...well, it's kind of hard to work through that. It's going to take me a while.”

Castiel said nothing, but he could see the lingering pain in the angel's eyes. Cas always hated it when he and Dean fought, and when they separated. Every time it happened, he tended to try and work them back together. Whether it was through gentle questions and suggestions, or the one time he had more or less literally locked them in a small room together and told them to, in his words, 'stow their shit'. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair

“Look, it's gonna be a while before I can be reasonable about this. I'm only human.” Cas nodded, understanding sparking in his blue gaze. “I'll make you a deal though.”

He took a deep breath. “We cross paths with Dean, I'll work with him. I'll do my best to be as civil as possible to him. And hey, if he can figure out the real reason I'm pissed and actually apologize for it, or whatever, then maybe we can get somewhere. If not, I'll work through it as best I can, and try not to rub salt in the wounds.” he sighed again, and the tension drained out of him. “I can't help how Dean feels, Cas.”

“No. I just wished to know what to expect.” Cas rose from his seat on the table. “Rest.” The angel slipped past him and vanished into the shadows of the Bunker, silent as a whisper.

Sam made his way to his bed and collapsed into it. Then he rolled over onto his back and covered his oddly burning eyes with his forearm.

Cas was probably right about how Dean felt. And despite his anger, he did feel some sympathy for his brother. He knew what it was like to feel like shit, to feel so guilty it felt like it would seep out your pores and taint everything you touched. He just wished Dean could feel guilty about the right things, instead of this stupid 'I'm poison' crap.

Whatever. He'd hash that out with Dean at some point. And at some point, he and Dean would probably make up, and he'd probably sort through his anger and forgive him. That's how it always seemed to happen between the two of them.

A soft huff of exasperated laughter escaped him. He and Dean would sort things out between them. Cas would most likely hover over them, or hang out with them. Crowley...well, next time he saw the bloody demon, they'd probably be back at the whole 'we all despise each other and maybe we're working in mutual cooperation or maybe we're trying to kill each other' mode that was the usual thing between them.

And enemies, friends, or both at the same time, they'd all just have to work through their own damned roads to redemption however they saw fit.

He sighed, then let go of the thoughts and fell back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...introspection and angst abound. Because it's Sam. And anyway, I like Crowley, even if he is evil...theoretically.


End file.
